


Skin

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge (Derek/Stiles) [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knew that his soul was not beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

Being born a werewolf meant that Derek had no scars to speak of, at least not visible on his skin. The wolfsbane bullet that Kate Argent shot him with left no mark. It was impossible to tell that once he had fallen thirty feet onto an escalator that left his body nearly broken, or that claws had ripped across his body and left bloody gashes to the bone in their wake. 

You’d have to take him apart, tear the skin from his bones and disassemble the framework to get to the organs underneath, and then pull those away too to reveal his inner being, his soul, to see the damage. He imagined that his soul would be blackened with the ash that burned his family, the scratches that Kate left down his back every time they’d been together before she wrapped herself in his scent and threw the flames over his life, everything he loved. Laura’s death would be a gaping hole, the loss of the only family he had left, only to be thinly covered by Cora and the fact that he still received calls and visits from her often. Both of Peter’s betrayals would be open wounds that still bled every time he remembered the hope that he had brought back.

Derek knew that his soul was not beautiful.

Which was why Stiles fascinated him. In the years that Derek had known him, watching him grow from a flailing high school student to the man he was now, he had acquired almost as much damage as Derek himself. He was still haunted by what the nogitsune had done with his body, by the death of his mother so long ago. He knew that Scott walking away more than once had left a toll that their friendship never fully recovered from despite appearances that it was as strong as it had ever been. And that was only what was inside. His skin wore the scars of every encounter, every death, every time that Stiles flung himself in front of his pack. 

Derek knew that Stiles’ soul was probably as mangled as his own, but that was part of why he’d been drawn to him in the first place. Why he’d dropped everything and yanked Stiles into him the moment he returned home from his first year of college to press his mouth hard to the other’s, to drag him to his bed and bare his skin and trace every faint white line with his tongue until he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t done it before. And then to gasp when Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s body, lingering at every place he recalled ever being left open, until all they could Derek could do was bury his face into Stiles’ neck and try not to shake apart. 

And afterwards, when they were tangled so closely together that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began, Stiles murmured quietly in his ear the things he’d wanted to say for years, and Derek drifted into sleep feeling like maybe his soul didn’t look so damaged after all.


End file.
